Of Time And Sea
by Cloaked Eagle
Summary: The lives of two Exile elves, from birth to death... and beyond.
1. Prologue: Bliss

Of Time And Sea  
Prologue: Bliss 

It all began in the Bliss of Aman, when Veon of the Noldor wed Alcë of the Teleri. By the grace of Eru, two children were added unto them, Meldon, the elder, and Cenirë, the younger.

The children were, as most elves born in the Days of the Trees, blessed with great energy. Under the mingled light of Laurelin and Telperion the streets of Tirion rang with the laughter of young elves at play.

One such child, and a playmate of Cenirë, was Varnë. She was the daughter of Ehtur of the Noldor and Rávasalquë of the Vanyar, and she and her brother Raumo spent much of their time with the sister of Meldon. Meldon himself, on the other hand, preferred to visit his mother's kin in Alqualondë. He only encountered Varnë on a few occasions, and what few words they exchanged were insults, as is common amongst children of that age.

Both Meldon and Varnë reached their full growth in the year of the unchaining of Melkor, and by that fact were their lives forever altered. If they had still been children, they might have heeded their parents in the events that followed, but they did not. Varnë, forgetting her childhood friends, began to associate with the children of Fëanaro, especially the second-born, Makalaurë. Between the two, though Makalaurë was the elder by many years of the Trees, a great friendship grew up, and there was rumour among the people of Tirion of an impending marriage, a joining of the already-close houses of Fëanaro and Ehtur.

But that was not to be. Before anything could take place – if, indeed, it were ever going to – Fëanaro broke the Peace of Valinor, drawing a sword against his half-brother Finwë Nolofinwë. Fëanaro was banished for twelve Years of the Trees from Tirion upon Túna. With him into exile went his seven sons, and his father King Finwë, and with them went also Varnë, out of friendship for Makalaurë. Her family, too, accompanied Fëanaro to the city, though her mother looked ever south, towards Valmar.

In the years that followed, Veon and Alcë removed to the city of Alqualondë. Their children remained in Tirion, where they spent much time in the house of Finwë Arafinwë, son of Finwë the king. There they remained, and great friendship grew between them and the children of the House of Arafinwë.

There they abode for all the years of Fëanaro's banishment, until at last a festival was held, at which Finwë's son was to be released from his exile...

* * *

What is this? Well, it's a prologue. What will the story be eventually? A complete chronicle of the lives of two elves, Meldon and Varnë, from birth to death... and beyond. Eventually, it will span all the long years from the Death of the Trees to the present day. Yes, that does indeed mean that they will be wandering down the course of Human history, and find themselves in some rather interesting situations. What those situations will be... well, that will be revealed in time.

I will attempt to keep the portrayal of the elves as close to Tolkien's vision as possible, but, as you should well know, I'm _not_ Tolkien. Not everything will be perfect. I hope you'll bear with me nontheless. I'll also try to keep the events chronicled in line with Tolkien, and, later, in line with what the history books say. I sense I'll be doing a lot of research on this one. I already have, trying to translate Meldon and Varnë's names into Sindarin. I'm still working on that.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story. Don't give up on it just because it's two original characters - I aim to prove that OC elves _can_ be written well.

Disclaimer: All locations and major events, and all characters except for the families of Meldon and Varnë belong to JRR Tolkien in spirit, and the Tolkien Estate legally. No harm is intended to them by the writing of this work.

Quenya Vocabulary - Words and names in Quenya will be entered into this list in the first chapter they appear in. Words which should be known from reading the Silmarillion will not be added.

Veon - Noldorin father to Meldon

Alcë - Telerin mother to Meldon

Meldon - Main character (male)

Cenirë - Sisterto Meldon

Varnë - Main character (female)

Ehtur - Noldorin father to Varnë

Rávasalquë - Vanyarin mother to Varnë

Raumo - Brother to Varnë

Fëanaro - Fëanor

Makalaurë - Maglor

(Finwë) Nolofinwë - Fingolfin

(Finwë) Arafinwë - Finarfin

Valmar - Valimar, city of the Vanyar (noted because two forms of the name exist)

... and I promise that the next chapter will be longer than the note following it. Really.

Cloaked Eagle


	2. Chapter I: Betrayal

Chapter I: Betrayal 

Meldon sat on the grass of Taniquetil with his sister, Cenirë. The mingled light of the Two Trees flowed around them, but Meldon was in no mood to enjoy it. His parents hadn't come to the festival. He knew they'd been invited – his father was, after all, a Noldo – but they'd stayed in Alqualondë. He sighed, and wondered again why he hadn't accompanied them to the Swan-Haven.

Cenirë poked him in the ribs. "Hey," she said, and poked him harder. He looked up.

"What?"

"Look over there," she said, pointing at the path leading up to Ilmarin. He looked, and saw a white horse with a tall, scowling Noldorin rider. Cenirë asked, "See him?"

"Yes…" he replied, confused.

"That's Fëanaro!" Meldon blinked.

"It is?" He frowned, and focussed on the rider's face. After a moment, he nodded. "I suppose it is, at that. What's he doing here?"

Cenirë gave him a look of disbelief. "Don't you even _try_ to remember the passage of time? It's been twelve years. He must be here to return from exile!"

Meldon blinked. "You mean Finwë will come back as King of Tirion?"

Cenirë nodded eagerly, which Meldon thought was a bit odd, but at her next words, he understood. "I'll get to see Varnë again."

Meldon frowned. "Cenirë, you know she stopped talking to you long before she left."

Cenirë's face fell. "Yes, but… maybe she's realised now how horrible Morifinwë really is."

Meldon shook his head. "It's not Moryo she spent most of her time with. It's Makalaurë, and he's not so bad."

"You mean he's never tried to run you down," Cenirë muttered, and Meldon winced. Morifinwë had, on the few occasions they had encountered one another, almost invariably tried to knock Meldon over with his horse. On one occasion, he'd actually succeeded, and ridden off laughing while Meldon lay there in the grass. He had limped home that day, but Veon and Alcë hadn't noticed, thankfully.

Cenirë was still watching the path, hoping to see Varnë's familiar silhouette, but after a few more moments she sighed. Meldon patted her on the shoulder. "You'll see her again some day," he said.

"Do you really think so?" she asked, hopeful.

Meldon nodded. "I do. Now come on, Ingoldo's waving to us." Standing up, he helped his sister to her feet and the pair walked down the slope to where the children of Arafinwë, and the other young elves of Arafinwë's household, were waiting for them.

With their friends, the pair talked, laughed, sang, and watched as the Valië Nessa and several Maiar danced to the singing of a group of Vanyar. Meldon had never really liked the Vanyar – it seemed to him that they did a lot of singing and very little else – but as he lay there on the grass, letting their voices wash over him, he had to admit that they sang very well. He was happy.

Then, in an instant, his world came crashing down. With no warning, the mingled light of the Trees flickered and died. Meldon sat up in shock as the Vanyarin song turned to screams. Around him, his friends gasped in shock. Cenirë clutched at his arm. "What's happening?"

"I… I don't know," he replied, staring down towards the Ezellohar. Was there a faint glow still coming from Telperion? Even as he tried to be sure, it vanished, leaving the world utterly dark.

Utterly dark? Even in such a time of obvious crisis, Meldon looked up at the sky. The stars of Varda, usually so bright, were faded, almost as if a great cloud had covered them. Meldon shivered, suddenly very afraid. What power in the world could cover the stars, and darken the Trees? There was only one that he could think of…

"Melkor," whispered Ingoldo nearby. Cenirë shuddered and clung to her brother.

"Is it Melkor? Has he killed the Trees?"

Meldon stared at his sister in shock. He had not even thought of that. "I hope not, Cenirë. I really hope not. If he has…" The sentence remained unfinished, hanging in the thick air between them.

The moment of silence was broken by the almost deafening sound of the Valaróma being sounded. Everyone on the slopes of the holy mountain turned to look to the summit, save a few Maiar who ran for their horses. Tulkas came charging out of the doors of Ilmarin, followed closely by Oromë, who leapt astride the waiting Nahar. He sounded the horn again, and the pair hurtled down the path towards the Trees, assorted Maiar joining them en route. Meldon, and everyone around him, watched them until they passed out of sight into the darkness of the plain, and then turned to Ingoldo.

"What do we do?" asked Ingoldo's youngest brother, Aicanáro. The eldest son of Arafinwë shrugged helplessly.

"What _can_ we do but wait?"

X

It had been a full day, as near as they could tell, since the Trees had suddenly and inexplicably been darkened, and Varnë was almost mad with worry. Finally giving up on trying to read by lamplight, she walked quickly out of her room and out into the courtyard. Grandfather Finwë – as almost everyone in Formenos referred to him – had ordered lights brought out from the inner chambers to the court, as a result of which the area was at least dimly lit. Locating the stair up onto the wall, she climbed up to where Makalaurë was standing watch.

He turned briefly at the sound of her footsteps. "Varnë, greetings. How goes it with you?"

"Terribly," she replied, "as it does with everyone. We can't live like this."

Makalaurë nodded. "I know. I'm trying to get Grandfather to send a messenger down to Valmar to find out what's happened, but he keeps saying that Father will be coming back soon, and that we should wait for him."

Varnë shook her head. "What if he doesn't? What if they're keeping him down there?"

Makalaurë blinked. "The Valar? Why would they do that?"

"They sent us up here, didn't they?" She gestured at the darkened city. "Who knows what they'll do?"

Makalaurë sighed. "Varnë… as much as I hate to admit it, Father _was_ in the wrong. After twelve years, you should be able to accept that."

Varnë bit her lip. "I know, but… oh, Cáno, I'm just so scared." She turned away, not wanting him to see her tears. A moment later, she felt his arm around her.

"I know, Varnë," he whispered as he embraced her, "I'm scared too. I think everyone is – even Grandfather."

She sniffed, trying to clear her throat. "Even Moryo?"

Makalaurë laughed slightly. "Well, perhaps not Moryo, but I don't think my brother is scared of _anything_." Varnë smiled, her fear temporarily forgotten, and returned Makalaurë's embrace.

"Hey!" called Telufinwë from where he stood on watch on the other side of the gate. "I think I see something!"

Makalaurë spun away from Varnë, peering once more into the darkness beyond the wall. "What is it, Telvo?" he called back.

"I don't know," came the reply, "but I'd swear the stars to the south are dimming!"

"The _stars_?" Varnë moved next to Makalaurë and stared into the darkness. She couldn't see any difference, but then, Telufinwë had always had the sharpest eyes in Formenos. A few moments later, Makalaurë nodded.

"I think I see it. It looks wrong. Shall I go and tell Grandfather?"

"I'll do it," said Varnë quickly, and at his nod, ran down the steps and into the central building. She found Finwë quickly, talking with his eldest grandson Nelyafinwë. The pair looked up as she approached, and Nelyafinwë said, "Varnë? What's wrong?"

"Telvo and Cáno have sighted something beyond the wall," she gasped. "They think it might be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" The two elves jumped up. "On the wall, did you say?" Varnë nodded, and the pair ran off. She followed, slightly breathless, and arrived on the wall again just as Finwë finished examining the horizon.

"I do not like this," said the King of the Noldor, "not at all. Russandol, lead the people out by the eastern gate."

"Me?" Nelyafinwë asked in surprise. "But what will you be doing?"

"I will remain here," Finwë replied. "I will remain here," he repeated over the raised voices of the three elves on the wall with him, "and I will attempt to ascertain the nature of this… thing that approaches our walls."

Nelyafinwë still looked inclined to argue, but Finwë looked at him sternly. "Grandson, I am still your king. Don't make me have to order you to leave."

Nelyafinwë sighed. "Yes, Grandfather." Gesturing to Makalaurë and Varnë, he said, "Come on. We've got a lot of rounding up to do." And with that, he walked off down the steps.

It was an hour or so later that the people of Formenos left their city via the side entrance. Varnë was one of the last out, and looked back towards the wall to see Finwë still standing there, lantern in hand. She turned away, hoping she would see him again.

But that was not to be. As the elves reached the foothills of the mountains, there was a great rumbling from behind them. They turned, just in time to see a great burst of light over Formenos. They were not yet too far away, so the longest-sighted among them saw the great tower of Formenos fall into ruin. Nelyafinwë let out a strangled cry and threw himself to the ground. Varnë wanted to do the same, but when Makalaurë began to weep, she instead focussed on comforting him, trying not to let the grief in her own mind overwhelm her.

Despite her efforts, a few tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, splashing onto the heedless grass of Aman.

* * *

The next chapter may take a while - it's proving hard to get through some of the Tirion sections. So we'll see. 

Reviews are appreciated, of course.

Disclaimer: All locations and major events, and all characters except for the families of Meldon and Varnë, belong to JRR Tolkien in spirit, and the Tolkien Estate legally. No harm is intended to them by the writing of this work.

Quenya Vocabulary - Words and names in Quenya will be entered into this list in the first chapter they appear in. Words which should be known from reading the Silmarillion will not be added.

Ilmarin - The Halls of Manwë and Varda on Taniquetil

Morifinwë - Caranthir

Moryo - Short form of Morifinwë

Ingoldo - Finrod Felagund

Valië - Female Vala

Cáno - Short form of Canafinwë, another name of Maglor

Telufinwë - Amras

Telvo - Short form of Telufinwë

Nelyafinwë - Maedhros

Russandol - A nickname of Maedhros

Cloaked Eagle


	3. Chapter II: Gloom

Chapter II: Gloom 

Varnë sat amid the ruins of Formenos, waiting for Nelyafinwë and Makalaurë to return. As soon as the tunnels into the lower levels of the city had been reopened, the pair had vanished within, searching for their father. They had been gone for what seemed like hours, but without the Trees, who could tell?

"Varnë," said a familiar voice from behind her. She turned to see her father, Ehtur.

"Father?"

"I know you are grieved by the loss of Finwë," Ehtur said, "but all this brooding will not help."

"You do not know that he is dead," said Varnë, suddenly angry, "and unless you have something _better_ for me to do, I see no problem with 'brooding'."

"You could comfort Raumo," he said, oblivious to her rage. "He had to leave his favourite horse behind, and is very distraught to discover that it has died."

Varnë stared at him. "You… want me… to comfort… my _brother_? Do I not grieve as well?"

"He is younger than you," Ehtur began, but Varnë had had enough. She rose abruptly to her feet.

"I am going to find Cáno," she said, and started towards the tunnel, ignoring her father's call to her to come back. Before she could reach the entrance, however, Makalaurë came out, head bowed. She rushed over to him. "Cáno! Did you find-?"

"We did," said Nelyafinwë from just behind him. Varnë turned, and gasped. The eldest son of Fëanaro stepped out of the dark tunnel and lowered the broken body of his grandfather to the broken stone of the courtyard. The sound of the King's armour touching the ground filled the suddenly silent city.

"Finwë is fallen," said Nelyafinwë, his voice thick with tears. "We found him before the door of the deepest vault. That door had been torn aside, and the Silmarilli, greatest of the treasures of the Noldor, stolen from within. But what are treasures, when the King is slain?" He shook his head, and looked at Finwë.

"Grandfather, you were slain here, first of all the Eldar in Aman. To the Halls of Mandos we commend your spirit, that you may be reunited with Míriel Serindë, your first wife and beloved. We…" He shook his head and knelt by Finwë's body, overcome with sorrow. In silence, the other sons of Fëanaro moved to his side, comforting him and grieving in the same moment. Only Morifinwë did not weep. In his eyes burnt a fire unlike anyone's save his father, and Varnë knew, from the way he glared southwards, that his mind was already filled with thoughts of vengeance.

After what felt like an age, Nelyafinwë took a lantern from his brother and rose to his feet. "Makalaurë," he said, "lead the people by foot back to Tirion. I do not think Melkor – for surely this is his work – will trouble you."

Makalaurë straightened. "I will, brother," he said, and then, more hesitantly, "What will _you_ be doing, Russandol?"

"I will require a horse," replied Nelyafinwë, "for I will ride directly across the plains to bring word of this to Father, and to the Valar. Who has a steed to lend to me?"

There was silence for an uneasy moment. All had lost much in the destruction of the city, and few would give up more. But one would. "You may take my horse," said Rávasalquë, Varnë's mother. All eyes in the city turned to look at the golden-haired Vanya, who shrugged. "Súrë is swift, if not so swift as you are used to."

"I thank you, Rávasalquë," said Nelyafinwë. "My house will ever be in your debt."

"Nay, lord," said Rávasalquë, and Varnë realised with a start that Nelyafinwë was now their leader by birthright, "there is no debt. I am certain you would do the same for me is I required it."

Nelyafinwë smiled, ignoring a mutter from his brother Curufinwë that Varnë heard as '… wouldn't give _my_ horse up for anyone…'. "I thank you, then, lady, and will ever strive to maintain friendship between our houses."

In spite of the seriousness of the moment, Varnë couldn't help glancing at Makalaurë. In that same moment he looked over at her, and on meeting her gaze, smiled slightly. She returned the smile, and then looked away, slightly embarrassed.

X

Meldon sat in Arafinwë's house and stared gloomily at the wall. The room was well lit, with both glowing crystals and the less efficient flame-lanterns that had had to be made in such numbers in the short time since the death of the Trees. Outside, the streets were filled with Noldor, all rushing up to the square below the Mindon Eldaliéva, the square where Fëanaro had drawn his sword on Nolofinwë, and where he had now returned, suddenly. The people of Tirion knew that he wasn't allowed to be there – that his exile had not yet been revoked. They didn't care. They wanted to hear him anyway.

Meldon shook his head. "It's stupid," he muttered.

"What is?" said Cenirë from behind him. He turned, waving one hand to indicate the window.

"This. They're all running up to hear the great Fëanaro speak, and why? Because his father got killed by Melkor. All he's going to do is grieve."

"Don't be so sure," said Cenirë. When Meldon frowned at her, she explained. "Don't you remember Fëanaro's ways at all? He won't just grieve – he'll call for vengeance."

"Vengeance?" Meldon snorted. "Against who? Melkor is gone, he's left these shores far behind. He's back in Middle-earth, and as long as he stays there, I don't care what he does."

"But Fëanaro will," said Cenirë, her eyes glinting. "He'll lead us over the sea to Middle-earth. I know it."

Meldon stared at his sister… and then it hit him. "You've been talking to Varnë, haven't you?"

Cenirë nodded. "She came back with the people of Formenos, and she says that Makalaurë had been discussing this plan all the way down the Pelóri."

"Cenirë…" Meldon shook his head. "How would Makalaurë know what his father planned? Fëanaro was in Valmar when Formenos was attacked, and the only messenger going either way was Nelyafinwë."

Cenirë looked uncertain for a moment. "Well… maybe he guessed." Reaching out, she grabbed Meldon's sleeve, tugging at it. "Come _on_, Meldon, everyone else has gone."

That surprised him. "Everyone? I'd've thought Ingoldo would have…"

"He was the first to leave," his sister replied. "Everyone else followed him, even Artaresto."

"Artaresto went?" That surprised Meldon even more. The second son of Arafinwë was usually slow and thoughtful, and for him to rush off to an event like this was very unusual. Meldon nodded. He'd made up his mind.

"All right. We'll go."

Cenirë grinned. "I _knew_ you'd agree!" she said, and grabbed a crystal light from its niche in the wall. "Come on, get a light and get moving."

Meldon rolled his eyes. "Yes, Cenirë," he said, lifting a crystal of his own and standing up. Brushing his tunic with his hand to flatten the creases, he followed his energetic sister out of the house, closing the door behind him to keep the cool air of the long night out.

* * *

This chapter is shorter than I intended. I reached what I consider a good cutoff point, and I really don't feel up to attempting Fëanaro's speech in this chapter. It will probably take up all of the next chapter anyway. 

Yes, Curufinwë's line is explicit foreshadowing to the Lay of Leithian.

Reviews are still appreciated, just to let me know if anyone's reading this thing.

Disclaimer: All locations and major events, and all characters except for the families of Meldon and Varnë, belong to JRR Tolkien in spirit, and the Tolkien Estate legally. No harm is intended to them by the writing of this work.

Quenya Vocabulary - Words and names in Quenya will be entered into this list in the first chapter they appear in. Words which should be known from reading the Silmarillion will not be added.

Silmarilli - Silmarils

Súrë - Wind, the name of Rávasalquë's horse.

Artaresto - Orodreth. There are several Quenya names given for Orodreth, none of them entirely canonical, but this is the one that I chose to use.

Cloaked Eagle


	4. Chapter III: Rebellion

Chapter III: Rebellion 

"People of the Noldor, hear me! The High King of the Noldor is slain!"

The crowd gasped at Fëanaro's words, although in truth almost all of them had known his news beforehand, rumour in Tirion being what it was. Meldon leant against the wall of one of the houses surrounding the square below the Mindon Eldaliéva, knowing that he had no chance of seeing over the crowd.

"Yea, by the treachery of Melkor Moringotto he is slain, and I claim the kingship of my father's people! Wilt thou have me?"

"Of course they will," Meldon muttered under the crowd's cheers. "They're eager for a hero while the Valar sit and do nothing."

"Oh, don't be such a cynic," said Cenirë. "Come on, let's see if we can get closer."

Meldon looked at the closely-packed Eldar. "How, by flying?"

Cenirë looked around. "Well, I-"

"Then I vow to you that I will avenge Finwë's death, if I give my life to do so!"

Meldon rolled his eyes at Fëanaro's words, but the need to comment was taken from him by another. "How can he do _that_?" asked a semi-familiar voice loudly. "Hasn't Melkor gone back to Endor?"

"That's King Nolofinwë!" Cenirë exclaimed. "Come _on_, Meldon, he's not that far away."

Meldon blinked. "So? Since when have you been friends with the king?"

Cenirë glared at him. "Who do you think he's talking to, brother?"

Meldon feigned thought. "Oh, well, perhaps _his wife_?"

Cenirë scowled, and Fëanaro continued his speech in the distance. " Why, my people, should we longer serve the jealous Valar, who cannot keep us, nor even their own realm, secure from their Enemy? If, indeed, he _is_ their enemy. For though they call him foe, are not they and he of one kin? Vengeance bids me follow Moringotto, but even were it otherwise I would not dwell longer in this land with the kin of my father's murderer, and of the thief of my treasure. Yet I am not the only valiant in this valiant people! I ask you, Noldor, have you not lost your king? Do you not desire vengeance?"

Meldon groaned, but looked up in surprise at another, more familiar voice. "He's good at this. He's got their blood moving. I fear… Nolofinwë?"

"Ha!" Cenirë crowed. "I _knew_ it. Come on, Meldon, we should go to Arafinwë."

Meldon shook his head in despair and pushed himself away from the wall. "All right, then. If you can find them."

Cenirë grinned. "Of course I can," she said, and ran into the crowd. Despite the packed look to it, she nevertheless managed to find a way through. Shaking his head again, Meldon followed.

X

"And what _else_ have you lost, cooped up here in a narrow land between the mountains and the sea? Here, once, was light, that Middle-earth lacks, but now, now darkness levels all. Shall we mourn here deedless forever, a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea? Or shall we return to our home? In Cuiviénen sweet ran the waters under unclouded skies, and wide lands lay about, where a free people might walk. There they lie still! They await us, who in our folly forsook them. Come away! Let the _cowards_ keep this city!"

At the foot of the stair, Varnë joined in the cheering exuberantly. _This_ was what was needed, not the long councils of the Valar. The Eldar needed _action_.

"Too long have the Valar held us here in thrall, that they may supplant us in our Ilúvatar-given homeland with _Mortals_. The existence of these Secondborn, these weak Aftercomers, these _Atani_, they have kept secret from us, that we would never doubt that they kept us here for our own good. No more! Who will join me in reclaiming our homeland?"

"I! I!" Varnë cried, hearing the words echoed all around her. At her side, Makalaurë grinned, an expression that the woman was sure was matched on her own face.

"Fair shall the end be," continued Fëanaro, "though long and hard shall be the road! Say farewell to bondage! Say farewell to oppression!" The crowd cheered again, and again Fëanaro waited for them to still. When he spoke again, his tone was far less forceful, more thought-provoking. "But say farewell also to _ease_, for the Valar will no longer be there to show us the easy path, to hold our hands – as though we were _children_. Will you regret this freedom?"

"No! No!" called Varnë with all the rest, but at the back of her mind a small hint of doubt intruded. Even in Formenos, her life had been relatively peaceful. How would she handle a war?

"Say farewell to the weak! Say farewell to your treasures – more still shall we make! Journey light, but bring with you your swords! For we will go further than Oromë, endure longer than Tulkas, and we will _never_ turn back from pursuit." Varnë's thought vanished as Fëanaro – her king – ripped his sword from it's sheath and stabbed it skywards. "After Moringotto to the ends of the Earth!" The light of their torches flashed from the blade, and as the crowd roared in response, Varnë wished she had a sword of her own that she could imitate him, as so many others were doing, Makalaurë included. Over the wild cheering, Fëanaro spoke again.

"War he shall have, and hatred undying! And we will defeat him! We will conquer! We will regain the Silmarils, and then we and we alone shall be lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and beauty of Arda. No other race shall oust us!"

From the front line of the crowd, where Varnë stood with all seven of her king's sons, Morifinwë leapt up onto the step beside his father, sword in hand, and called the words that would be forever etched in Varnë's mind. "Be he elf, or orc, or demon foul of Moringotto…"

As he continued – "Be he Mortal dark that in after days on Earth shall dwell, shall no law nor love nor league of swords" – his brothers joined him, in ones and twos, until at last only Makalaurë was left at Varnë's side. "No might, nor mercy…"

"Nor moveless fate!" Makalaurë cried, chiming in at last, but his hand grasped Varnë's and he did not move from his place as the seven continued.

"Defend him forever from the fierce vengeance of the Sons of Fëanaro, whoso seize, or steal, or finding keep the fair enchanted globes of crystal whose glory dies not, the Silmarils. We have sworn forever!"

"In Eru's name we swear!" Pityafinwë cried. His twin Telufinwë waved his sword higher and added his own vow: "The Everlasting Dark be upon us if we keep not our oath!"

Morifinwë grinned darkly. "Manwë and Varda we name in witness, on their hallowed mountain of Taniquetil!"

All seven of Fëanaro's sons thrust their blades as high as they might and bellowed out the final line of their Oath. "The Silmarils are ours until the end of Time!"

Varnë stared at her friends, numb with shock. The silence of the crowd was overwhelming, and she knew full well why. To swear that they would retake the Silmarils was one thing, but to do so by Ilúvatar's name, calling the Elder King himself as a witness? To consign themselves to the Void if they should fail? Varnë shuddered, her hand dropping from Makalaurë's. She didn't know whether it was because of her Vanyarin mother's influence or simply fear, but she suddenly had an overwhelming desire to flee, to push her way through the crowd to the city gates and run all the way to Taniquetil, there to kneel before Manwë and beg forgiveness for even hearing the Oath.

"You insane fools!" Varnë was jolted from her thoughts by Nolofinwë's words, and stumbled sideways as Fëanaro's half-brother pushed between her and Makalaurë. As other members of Finwë's house – she thought she recognised Findecáno and Ingoldo – rushed past her, Makalaurë shot her an apologetic look and dashed up onto the steps to join his brothers. "You would invoke Ilúvatar to serve your selfish desires?" Nolofinwë continued, waving his sword around so angrily that Varnë began to worry he might kill someone by accident.

Fëanaro, however, didn't seem concerned with anything. "If we have to," he said, shrugging unconcernedly, "to get our point across."

"That's…" Nolofinwë's mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he tried – Varnë assumed – to find a suitable word, and then settled on "… insane!"

"Who is the king here?" Fëanaro asked mildly, and Varnë was struck by a sudden thought. _Hey, didn't Nolofinwë rule Tirion while-?_

"_I_ was, until you came back!" Nolofinwë yelled, confirming her suspicions. "What gives you the right to take this city, that I have worked so hard to preserve, and lead it into darkness?"

" I claim the kingship as the firstborn son of Tirion's true king, _half-breed_," Fëanaro replied, deathly calm, "and I will fight to preserve it."

"Oh, you'll fight?" Nolofinwë's eyes flashed with rage, and he raised his sword. "Then let us see who is the better swordsman!" The elf swung his blade at Fëanaro's head, and Varnë flinched away, expecting to see blood. Instead, in a move so fast Varnë didn't think it possible, Fëanaro ripped his own sword out and blocked his brother's blow with a jarring crash of steel on steel. The two princes of the Noldor glared at each other over crossed swords, each pushing against the other, even as Varnë was pushed aside yet again by Arafinwë and his son Artaresto. The youngest of Finwë's children stopped at the foot of the stairs, took in the situation in a single glance, and then drew breath for a great cry.

"HOLD!"

* * *

I'm sorry this took so long to get up. I'm afraid this section of the story is somewhat awkward to write - all my characters can do is watch, because there's no space for them to do anything. However, you'll be glad to know that I have an outline for the next twenty-odd chapters, and should be able to write them with a little less difficulty than these.

The next chapter picks up where this one left off, taking us through the rest of the debate in Tirion. As with the above, pieces of it are directly from Tolkien, pieces are edited from Tolkien to make them better fit the tone of the story, and pieces are my own extrapolations. Hopefully the contrast isn't too jarring.

Disclaimer: All locations and major events, and all characters except for the families of Meldon and Varnë, belong to JRR Tolkien in spirit, and the Tolkien Estate legally. No harm is intended to them by the writing of this work.

Quenya Vocabulary - Words and names in Quenya will be entered into this list in the first chapter they appear in. Words which should be known from reading the Silmarillion will not be added.

Moringotto - Morgoth

Pityafinwë - Amrod

Findecáno - Fingon

Cloaked Eagle


End file.
